


up until now

by chasingpatterns



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Met in McDonald's AU, Mostly Gen, Origin Story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, Slight Drunk Driving, if i'm honest, something i never thought i'd type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8940127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingpatterns/pseuds/chasingpatterns
Summary: Len never thought that things would go south by him doing things right. The "Met at a McDonald's at 4AM" AU no one wanted. Inspired by this post.





	

Len never thought that things would go south by him doing things _right_. It’d taken weeks of planning, of looking small, of slipping suggestions to the crew for them to echo back to his father as if it were their own, of waiting for Lewis to get drunk and pass out long enough for him to add miniscule adjustments to his father’s plans so that he wouldn’t notice, but he did it. A flawless heist. They’d gotten away timed down to the second, came out with extra (some of which lined Len’s deceptively fluffy coat), and even accounted for his father’s posturing and shoving people, mostly him, around. Now, Len’s plan had largely depended on his father and his crew’s arrogance and pride, but what he hadn’t counted for was for them to immediately splurge on it. At least, not for Len to come along.

Even if he’d done his best to be a balance of invisible and useful, he thought he would be able to slip away afterwards, but no cigar. Apparently, he was good enough to go along after, but not enough to actually enter the bar his father and his crew drove to after the night. He remembers the car ride, Len sitting quietly up front and cringing every time any of them raised their voices even just to brag about their pull.

“Stay here, boy.” A town over, just outside of Keystone and a five hour walk back home, Lewis stayed behind after the rest had poured into what had to be the only 24-hour bar in the city, finger pointed sternly in his face. Len couldn’t hide the wince.

“But don’t you think – ”

“I said _stay_ here, so you’re gonna stay here, y’hear me?” That earned him a knock to the head, his skull cracking painfully against the window. Len thought to Lisa, who was sleeping over at a friend’s that night, and that helped him bite back the pained noise that nearly escaped. “Just ‘cause you weren’t in the way tonight doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you slack.”

He nodded, curling up in on himself, and watched Lewis lock him into the car, disappearing through the bar door. That’d been two hours ago.

The pain’s gone away, after all compared to everything else Len had endured that particular hit was downright _gentle_ , but he was bored and berating himself for not stealing the keys when he had the chance.

The car they “borrowed” for their escape had doors that only worked from the outside, the extra step of locking it being more a show of dominance from Lewis, but at the least he left the tools in the back. It takes Len a little while but he finally works the back door open and slips out, then tries to remember where he spotted the bus station as they passed it. Let Lewis be mad later.

The 24-hour bar had a 24-hour McDonald’s a road away, conveniently across the street from the bus stop. Len’s stomach growls. The last time he ate was yesterday and the bus wouldn’t be coming for another few hours. Making up his mind, he steps in, orders ten chicken nuggets with a bill he slips from his coat lining, and mentally thanks the teenager behind the counter for taking it without so much as a blink.

Len sits himself down in the corner where he can eye the door and watch the entire restaurant and goes to town on his nuggets at an embarrassingly fast rate. He supposes he’s still growing, only sixteen and just gone through a growth spurt over the summer that shot up his height pretty quick yet not done, apparently. He didn’t wanna find out what would happen when he finally gets taller than Lewis, but that’s for a different time. For now, he’s staring at an empty nugget box and now at a much more human rate going in on his fries, contemplating whether or not he should order something else. That’s when he walks in.

He, being a guy that looked to be in his early twenties, having a huge presence even if he looked just a few inches taller than Len is. His staggering motions tell him that he’s a bit tipsy, and that makes him a little weary. If he came from the same bar Lewis was at, he wanted nothing to do with him. The man orders a couple burgers to a terrified looking cashier and sits at a table a good distance away from Len. Not quite at the opposite side, but closer to the door than to the middle of the restaurant. The choice had been random.

He’s absentmindedly chewing through his fries as he watches him absolutely devour the first burger as well as the first set of fries, but the second one? The second one he’s distracted. About halfway through he’d brought out a lighter. For a moment he thinks he’s about to smoke and then Len will have no entertainment as the cashier will undoubtedly have to kick him out, but he makes no further move to pull out a cigarette, instead stares at the flame. He doesn’t really think fingers covered in whatever grease is on the fries plus fire is a good choice, but he doesn’t seem to care. He realizes, then, that his seating had been a deliberate move after all: facing away from the register.

Interesting.

Len starts the clock.

It takes the man thirty minutes before he finally finishes his fries, another thirty with his burger, and an hour before the kid behind the register finally makes a round to mop up sections of the place, at which point lighter-man has put it away, not that it matters. It seems the cashier is still largely intimidated by him and avoids the area of the tables he’s at, which Len doesn’t blame him for. Meanwhile, his “subject” stares at his empty cartons of food as if wondering where it went. Now Len’s intrigued.

After a moment’s deliberation, he picks himself up from his spot, throwing away his trash and not leaving behind so much as a crumb before plopping himself a table closer to the stranger. It’d meant to be subtle but Len is tired and maybe a little hazy after the hit and his food and the heist. The stranger raises his eyebrow, stands, and plops himself in front of Len. Meanwhile, the worker sighs and starts throwing away lighter-man’s food.

“You watchin’ me?”

Now that he’s closer, Len can see he’s actually much younger, probably eighteen or nineteen, and has a bruise beginning to bloom at his jaw. He probably still passes for older but Len’s seen enough fake IDs to know.

“Did you get into a fight or something?” He asks instead, shocking himself. He’s a bit on edge now but he hadn’t meant for that to come out.

“Yeah. Some asshole at the bar an’ his buddies wouldn’t shut up.” There’s more story to it than that, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s his dad he’s talking about. His eyes light up, but he holds that back.

“You don’t look old enough to drink.”

“Doesn’t matter.” That confirms that. It’s obvious the stranger’s trying his best to intimidate him, what with the muscles and the gravelly voice, but Len’s demons are scarier. “Why’re you staring at me.”

“It took you an hour to eat your burger,” Len says with a huff, as if it’s a joke, even if he’s needling for something else. “You must be really drunk.”

“I can handle my liquor,” he says in response, looking to Len pointedly. “‘M already sober as is.” A frown goes across Len’s face as he realizes that’s the end of that. Apparently he’d seen through the questioning. He has to admit, though, he’s impressed. Len channels the dismissive look he sometimes sees on his father, adding his own long, low blink and turning his gaze toward the table while angling his head towards the stranger.

“Didn’t happen to be a stout old guy. Brown hair.” He gives him a questioning look but Len doesn’t offer much else.

“That’s the one.”

“Why you askin’?”

“That man,” he says, now looking up at him, “was my ride home.”

“You’re gonna need a new ride home, then.”

He’s simultaneously elated and pissed. Elated, because Lewis had been knocked the fuck out and apparently his crew didn’t care enough to try and look for the kid before him – after all, they weren’t the most loyal and because Len knew them, he knew they’d rather lie their way out of it than try to fight for his father’s honor. If anything, they’d make a haphazard attempt at running after him until they knew his dad was out, keep drinking and back Lewis up when he tells people he was knocked out by some hulking behemoth of a guy. It wouldn’t be too far off. He’s pissed because it means he’ll have to stash Lisa and him somewhere safe the next few days.

However, someone like this who could knock out his father and look through him? That’s dangerous. Yet.

“Did you drive here?”

“...Yeah?”

“Phil,” as was the name on the ID Lewis had on him for the night, “isn’t gonna be too happy to see me after you pulled something like that. You just cost me a ride and a few days’ peace, so if you drive me back to Central I’ll call it even.” Something in the stranger’s face changes when he says that, but he doesn’t know what to make of it. A little bit of realization and puzzlement at the same time.

“Yeah, right,” lighter-man says with a huff, beginning to get up from the table. The cashier is nowhere in sight. Len pulls out a twenty.

“Gas money,” he drawls. The guy looks at him like he’s crazy, but snatches the bill up anyways.

“Fine. But I’m takin’ a leak first.”

Len shrugs, letting him go before swiping his wallet. He’d steal the keys, but Len doesn’t think he can drive right now and never did like it. His experience with driving is Lewis screaming at him while the cops blare their sirens from a few hundred feet away because he got too injured to drive off. He always ends up panicking behind the wheel, so believe it or not, a not-totally-tipsy stranger makes for a better driver right now. Either way, he takes the opportunity to look at the license.

Mick Rory, just a year and a half older than he is but already at six feet tall, only has a few meager crumpled up ones in his wallet as well as Len’s twenty. After a moment’s deliberation he decides to leave it in. He also sees things to suggest he’s a farmer’s son, or used to be. The documentation looks worn and only seems to go up to a few years back. Other than that, nothing.

Rory comes back and Len returns the wallet to his pocket without so much as a word, the other never noticing.

“Who are you anyways, blue eyes? Sure you should be trusting me?”

“Does it matter?” Len doesn’t hold out a hand to shake. “Name’s Leo.” That was the name he defaulted on, and easier to respond to as that’d been a childhood nickname. Mick ignores that.

“S’a stupid name for someone. Leo’s for Leonardo or somethin’, right?” Something tells Len he’s more of a _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles guy_ than a Da Vinci guy. “‘M calling you Len.” Well. So much for that. “Mick.” He offers, after awhile.

“Show me the way, Mick,” Len drawls out, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Mick looks to him with one last dubious look, as if unbelieving this is happening, but Len raises his eyebrows at him as if to urge him on. He ends up shaking his head, a non-humorous laugh slipping out, but otherwise says nothing, and pops open the passenger door of his truck. Len gets in. Mick follows, starts the engine and begins to look back with the gear in reverse.

“So where’re you head – ”

“Seatbelt.” That comes out before he can stop himself. Mick looks at him like he’s crazy, but grunts and buckles up anyways. Len stays silent as if to own it. “Anyways, just get on the highway and I’ll tell you where to go from there.”

“Weird kid, ain’t ya?”

“Not a kid,” he insists instead, coolly. 

“Y’look like one.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Sure.” Len glares at him and Mick lets out a laugh. “That’s all you get.”

“Not like I’m the only weird one.” A raised eyebrow as Mick starts to pull out of the parking lot and move towards the main road. Len’s pleased to see that so far, he isn’t bringing him some place strange. “Saw you. With that lighter.”

“You really don’t know,” Mick’s muttering under his breath, and continues before he has time to question it. “I like fire,” he states simply, but Len knows there’s more to that, so he sits in silence and waits for him to pipe back up.

“Fire’s the purest thing we got, in this world. And I wanna watch it burn.”

That scares him. He can feel himself curling up a little and stays silent. Is it just him, or does he look almost… satisfied? And under that, _disappointed_.

“Unique want.” Len’s throat is dry.

“Yeah, well, haven’t managed it yet.”

It’s what Mick wants, he knows, but he wants to know why he’s so keen on pushing him away.

“You’ve been trying?”

It’s his turn to be silent, only giving Len a shrug before keeping his eyes on the road. For a solid ten minutes Len pretends to fiddle with the radio, and occasionally calls out directions. He forces himself to relax in his chair and he notices Mick's white knuckle grip recedes at about the same rate. After some time it seems his companion’s gathered up enough to start up a conversation again.

“So. That must’a been your old man.”

“Maybe.”

“What’re you doing so far away from Central?” He spares him a glance but otherwise continues to look straight ahead. “Don’t pretend you ain’t a Central kid. You got a bad case a’ Central City slums drawl that ain’t goin’ away.”

“Had something we had to see.”

“And that something’s Dottie’s bar?” He doesn’t believe him, but Len shrugs at him anyways.

“Never been too good at vacations, me and my pop.” Mick cracks a smile. “Turn left.”

They pull up in front of a motel that Len’s picked out for when Lewis is being particularly rowdy. Tomorrow, he’ll have to pick Lisa up from school and bring her here. The people working don’t care enough to call CPS on them when they come, as long as they have the money, which is why Len likes it so much there.

“You can drop me off there.”

“Here?” He gives him a funny look. “If you’re hookin’ – ”

“I’m not a _hooker_ ,” he hisses, cutting him off. “I can’t go back to my house. And I’m not showing a stranger where I live.”

“Right.” That gets him to shut up pretty fast, but still sneaks him looks.

“I’m not.”

“I believe you.” Len glares at him until he laughs again, but Mick still insists on getting out of the truck and bringing him to the door as if making sure he’d get out safe. That’s an unfamiliar feeling.

“Guess that’s it.”

“Guess so.”

The taller of the two stares at him for a moment, before digging out his wallet and hands back Len’s twenty, as well as the ones that’d seen better days. He knows that’s all he has in his wallet.

“Thought you said you believed me when I said I wasn’t a hooker.”

To his amusement, Mick goes bright red and hastily shoves the money in Len’s hands.

“Don’t. And you probably need the money more than me.” It leaves Len a little stunned.

“Thanks,” he responds finally, shocking himself yet again.

“Sure.” Mick gives it a moment, rips a piece off one of the papers he again, had in his wallet, writes something down, and hands it along to Len again. “In case you need any more ‘rides.’”

He’s not really sure why he cares, and the look on his face is telling him that he doesn’t really know either outside of maybe a mutual interest, but Len… Len stores the scrap in his jacket and clears his throat.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Mick.”

“Sure. Seeya, Lenny.” Mick leaves first, to his truck, and Len watches him pull away before he finally goes into the motel.

Neither of them expect anything to come out of it. They’re both wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> It's 5AM, and frankly I don't know what I just did. If anyone wants to beta this mess message me please, because I just wrote that in a couple of hours and posted without looking instead of my essay. 
> 
> Some notes, everything's the same except instead of meeting in juvie they... meet in a McDonald's. This was supposed to be something funny but it ended up being this? I don't know. I really don't. I think the worst part is I have ideas for this verse and I'm not used to writing from Len's POV so tell me not to do that in the comments.
> 
> [tumblr.](http://chasingpatterns.tumblr.com/)


End file.
